Page 89 of The Last Library of Paris

‘Yes,’ said Alain. ‘Shall we bring the rest of the books down, if we’re going to work on deliveries here from now on?’

‘Yes, that would be great,’ I said, leaning my elbow on the desk and trying to look relaxed. ‘But first, tell me more about you. Alain is an interesting name. Is it short for something?’

‘It’s not short for anything,’ Alain said.

‘I had three boys called Alain in my class at school,’ said Guy. ‘Are you all right, Frances?’

‘I’m fine,’ I said, my voice a little shrill. ‘Absolutely fine.’

‘Are you rattled by that Nazi coming to the library?’ asked Guy. He looked back at the door, as though a horde of marauding Germans could arrive any minute.

With considerable effort, I pulled myself together.

‘It was a little unsettling,’ I said truthfully. ‘But I don’t think he’ll cause us any trouble.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Alain. He patted me on the back and I didn’t shrink away from his touch, which I considered a success. ‘Let’s get these books, shall we?’

Chapter 24

Cassie

Lisbon

Lisbon was being battered by a summer storm. The rain was lashing down; water pouring along the streets making rivers flow down all the hills.

I was quite glad to have the distraction of some spectacular lightning, because even though Archie had told me he would take care of Parrish, and that I wasn’t to worry, I was worrying.

There had been no sign of Archie, nor of Henry, all morning. I wondered if they were dealing with Parrish, or if they were just hiding from the rain. Mind you, Henry was Welsh. Didn’t it rain all the time in Wales? Surely he’d be used to it. And Archie was Scottish. Scotland definitely got more than its fair share of rain. It seemed a very poor excuse.

I spent the morning working on some plans. I ate a listless lunch with Penny, and then I climbed the stairs back to the office wearily, listening to the rain battering the glass dome above my head, and wondering if everything had gone wrong.

Just as I reached the first floor, I heard familiar voices, down below.

I leaned over the banister and saw Archie and Henry in the corridor. They were standing at either side of the hall like palace guards. And walking in between them, holding a cardboard box of his possessions, was Parrish.

As if he could hear my thoughts, Archie looked up at me and waved. I drew back in case Parrish looked up too. But he didn’t. His jaw was set with tension and he stared straight ahead. As he walked past, Archie and Henry followed. But instead of going to the front door of the embassy as I expected, they went to the right, where the tiled stairs to the basement led.

‘What on earth …’ I muttered. What was going on?

I paced around the office, until a few minutes later they arrived. Henry was flushed and looked a little more dishevelled than usual. Archie was calm.

‘Morning,’ he said. ‘Steven Parrish has gone.’

‘It’s the afternoon,’ I pointed out. ‘But where has he gone? I thought you were going to send him back to London.’

‘Ah,’ said Archie. ‘Small hiccup there.’

‘What kind of hiccup?’ I wasn’t amused.

‘All the flights are grounded because of the storm. All day today, tomorrow too and there’s bound to be a backlog after that. He’s not going anywhere for a while.’

‘So you’ve locked Parrish in the basement?’

Archie chuckled. ‘More or less. We’ve found a new role for him.’

‘What kind of role?’

‘Very specific to his skills. No one else was up to the job,’ Archie said with a grin. ‘Filing journals in the basement.’